The Broken Road
by starbuckmeggie
Summary: post-ep for A Boy Falling Out Of The Sky


Title: The Broken Road  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Spoilers: Up to and including "A Boy Falling Out Of The Sky." And my other stories.  
  
Archive: Knock yourself out, just let me know first.  
  
Feedback: Loved and revered.  
  
Disclaimer: If only. Oh, if only.  
  
Author's Notes: at the end.  
My mind is almost completely blank right now. The only thing that I'm capable of thinking of at  
the moment is, "He wants to marry me. He wants to marry me."  
  
I didn't think it was possible for me to be this freaked out. And really, I shouldn't be as shocked  
as I am. I pretty much knew that he felt this way. I've always known that he was the settling  
down type of man. He may not always seem that way, but I know him. He's always kept an eye  
out for the future Mrs. Carter.  
  
Mrs. Carter. Oh, God. That's what he wants me to be. Dr and Mrs. Carter. He wants me to be  
his wife. All of this is making my insides shake.  
  
We haven't really talked about this in a long time. Not since the very beginning of our  
relationship. And I don't know if you can really count all the stuff we talked about then because  
we were still in the honeymoon stage, where you're all moony-eyed and lovey-dovey, and all you  
can think about is how wonderful this person is and how you want to be near him for the rest of  
your life.  
  
I'm not saying that that's changed a whole lot. I can still see myself with him for all eternity, but  
what I'm worried about is whether or not it's good for him. And I really don't think it is.   
  
I don't love Carter any less than I did at the beginning of our relationship. I love him more, as a  
matter of fact. But I meant what I said earlier–he really doesn't want me to love him. Me loving  
someone has never turned out so hot. Something always happens–either they abandon me  
because they can't take all of my issues, or I push them away so far that they can't come back. I  
know that's a really pessimistic way to look at things, but that's how it is.  
  
Not to mention the fact that my life's kind of a train wreck at the moment. And the tequila last  
night was a smart move. It seems like a good idea at the time. Old reliable. Alcohol. It's always  
there for me. It never judges me. It makes the pain go away. Well, at least for a little while.  
  
But, isn't that what John's doing for me? Isn't he always there for me? Doesn't being with him  
make the world seem a little bit better? And, truth be told, the only thing he really judges me on  
is my drinking, which I suppose he has a right to do, though it doesn't make me feel any better.   
But the man flew to Belize and back in the space of twenty-four hours. I told him not to come  
home, even though I needed him so much it was like a physical ache. And he came home. Just to  
be with me. I don't think anyone else has ever done something like that for me before.  
  
What kind of life would he have with me? I don't think it would be quite what he's envisioning.   
As much as I'd love to have a nice house with a white picket fence and a dog and all that, I just  
don't see that happening for me. I can't do it. At any given moment, I'd have to drop everything  
to go take care of my brother, or my mother, or, God forbid, both of them, leaving him in a lurch.   
That's not fair to him. And I don't want to put him through that. I can't make him see that that's  
what life with me is like.  
  
But, he kind of knows what it's like with me. Hell, on more than one occasion, he has dropped  
everything to come be with me, even when he wasn't my boyfriend. I love knowing that he's  
there for me, that he's willing to help me. But he shouldn't have to live like that. No one should.   
And I can't ask that of him.  
  
I wouldn't be any good to him. I couldn't be the kind of wife he deserves. I can't even give him  
a family, because God knows I don't think there's any way I can willingly bring life into this world  
knowing what could happen to it. I can't do it. It's hard enough watching my mother and  
brother struggle with being bipolar, but I don't think I could handle one of my kids having the  
disease. It would truly send me over the edge, watching my child go through this kind of agony  
on a regular basis.  
  
Why does he love me? Why on earth would he want to put himself through this, day after day,  
week after week, year after year. I'm amazed that he's hung around this long. What is he getting  
out of this relationship aside from worry lines and gray hair? He doesn't even get to see his  
girlfriend happy because, let's face it, I don't get to be happy often. Aside from the general,  
comforting happy feeling of knowing he loves me, I've been kind of miserable for the past few  
months. It's hard not be when your brother, the one you're practically a mother to, the one has  
been such a big part of your life for so long, tells you that your services are no longer required.   
That he doesn't want you to be a part of his life anymore. Of course, him disappearing was just  
icing on the cake, even though we'd made amends a couple of weeks before.  
  
John deserves so much better than me. He deserves a girl who doesn't start drinking every time  
she has a problem. He deserves a girl who doesn't have more baggage than 747. He doesn't  
deserve to have my family shackled to him for the rest of his life. He deserves better than  
someone as damaged as me.  
  
He should be with someone who can make him happy. Because I really don't think I'm that  
person. How could he possibly be happy with me? I'm miserable more often than not it seems.   
It's got to be frustrating, and it's got to be getting old. But I'm beginning to think I'll never get  
to be truly happy.  
  
God! Why does he want to marry me? What on earth possessed him to think that marrying me  
would ever be a good idea? Because it's not. It really isn't. I'm not marriage material–I learned  
that the hard way.  
  
I keep asking myself what I've done to deserve him. I've been asking myself that question over  
and over again for months, and the answer is nothing. I don't deserve him. I don't deserve  
someone as wonderful and amazing as he is in my life. I think what I ultimately deserve is  
someone like Richard. I have no business being a part of John Carter's life.  
  
I shake my head and stand up, realizing that I've been staring at the ceiling in my living room for a  
few hours now. Mom was asleep when I got home, not that really felt like talking at the moment.   
I needed to get my head sorted out a little before I could discuss this with anyone.  
  
I'd wandered around the city for a couple of hours before heading home, after staring at Carter  
for a few minutes, still in shock over what he'd said to me. All I said to him before I left was a  
heartfelt, "I gotta go," and then disappeared. He didn't come after me, but I think it was probably  
better that way. From the look on his face, I don't think he was expecting to say that he wanted  
to marry me.  
  
I make my way over to one of the windows in my living room, and curl myself into a chair, staring  
out into the cold Chicago night, watching the snowflakes dance in the wind. It's kind of calming.  
  
A small part of my mind, a part that desperately wants to be happy, to have the fairytale, keeps  
nagging at me. It's telling me that Carter loves me, baggage and all. Because when you love  
someone, you love them completely. You love them for their faults as much as you do for their  
strengths. You love the whole package.  
  
And I can't deny that he loves me. I don't think he would put up with the kind of crap I put him  
through if he didn't. What the other part of my mind keeps asking is why? Why does he love  
me? And how much more of this can he take before he has to leave me. I keep trying to tell him  
that he should just go while he can, but he continues to ignore me. Maybe he's hoping that it'll  
get better. Maybe he thinks that if he hangs around long enough, I'll let him fix me, let him make  
me all better. It's not that I don't want him to be able to fix me (because, deep down, I kind of  
do), it's just that he can't. The only person who can fix me is me, and I don't have any idea how  
to do it.  
  
I just keep wondering about what he said on the roof. He just kind of blurted it out. He  
obviously wasn't planning on saying it right then and there. So, my negative half is telling me that  
it was an accident, and that he really didn't mean it. But my optimistic part keeps trying to tell me  
that people are honest when they're fighting; they may not always intend to say the things they  
say, but they still mean it. And I have to agree with my optimistic side at the moment–he certainly  
seemed like he meant it. He said it twice. And when I tried to mock him about it, saying, "Oh,  
you're proposing," he just said, "Yeah." He didn't try to take it back, he didn't try to cover it up,  
nothing. He just said he wanted to marry me. He's seen me at my worst, he was seeing me at a  
very low point, and he still wanted to be with me. He didn't run away when I told him to.   
Instead, he invited me to stay at his apartment while my mother is here.  
  
So, now my optimistic side is screaming at me to say yes. To just call him up and say yes. That  
he won't make everything go away, he won't be able to fix me, but he can make me happy. If I'd  
just let him. If I'd just let myself be happy.  
  
Maybe that's what it comes down to. I'm afraid to let myself be happy, that if I'm that happy, it'll  
completely crush me when it ends. I'm afraid of what will happen if I let myself love him more  
completely than I've ever loved anyone before in my life. I'm afraid that I'll scare him away. I'm  
afraid that my love and my neediness will be too great and that he'll have to leave me. And if he  
left me after that, I don't think I would actually be able to function any more. It would feel like  
half of me had been cut out.  
  
Then why exactly do I keep trying to push him away? Am I trying to kid myself into thinking that  
it won't hurt as much if he walks away now? Because it will. I don't think I could be more  
attached to him than I already am. If I was smart, I would be trying to hold on to him with  
everything I have, because you don't find this more than once in a lifetime. You're lucky if you  
find it even once. So, logically, I shouldn't be trying to get rid of him.  
  
Unfortunately, logic has never been my strong suit.  
  
I don't think I could ever really let him go. Being with him feels too right, too good, for me to let  
him go. I've tried, though. I've tried to set him free. He won't listen. And there's that  
expression, "If you love something, let it go. If it comes back to you, it's yours. If it doesn't, it  
was never meant to be." Maybe I should take the hint. Maybe I should stop being so down on  
myself and my life all the time and open my eyes and realize that this is it. That this is real. He  
loves me, no matter how hard I try to push him away. I may not have done anything to deserve  
him, but he's mine nonetheless. My mother hasn't scared him away. My brother hasn't scared  
him away. I haven't even managed to scare him away, and God knows that I've given him  
enough to worry about. The fact that, if we ever happened to have kids, they may not be  
"normal" hasn't scared him away. If that doesn't make a person head for the hills, I don't really  
know what will.  
  
I don't think I can take feeling like this much longer. My brain can't handle the rapid fire  
thoughts. All I want at the moment is for things to be like they were just yesterday afternoon.   
Hard to believe that it was a little over twenty-four hours ago that we were laying in bed, singing  
stupid love songs to each other. I feel like I've lived a lifetime in one day. I just don't think I  
could sleep right now. I need it, but I don't think it's going to happen.  
  
Of course, that's when I realize that my head's resting against the window pane, and that I've  
nodded off for a little. I drag myself to my feet and head back to the couch. I lay down and wrap  
myself in the comforter that I'd located when I got home a few hours ago. Mom was probably  
expecting me to share the bed with her, but I needed the space for the night. I needed to be able  
to lay awake for a while without her worrying about me.  
  
I feel myself drifting off, still not sure what I'm going to say to John the next time I see him. I  
don't know how I'm going to answer him if he asks again. I don't even know who's going to  
bring up the topic, or how. I'll have to cross that bridge when I get to it.  
  
Maybe I can talk to Mom about all this tomorrow. I'm supposed to be able to talk to my mother  
about this sort of thing, right?  
  
I sigh and snuggle myself into the cushions of the couch, my body relaxing and my mind slowing.   
And then a smile inadvertently spreads across my face, and the last thing I remember thinking  
before falling asleep is, "He wants to marry me."  
  
Maybe that's not so terrible.  
Author's notes: I think this one is a little different for me. I don't know exactly where it came  
from, but it needed to get off my chest. I know it's kind of jumbled, but that's kind of how I saw  
Abby dealing with all this; a million thoughts running through her mind at once, not quite sure  
how to take everything in. Hey, and feedback is good for the writer's soul. Hook me up, yo. 


End file.
